You're Gonna Go Far, Kid
by the-misfortune-teller
Summary: Deucalion returns to Beacon Hills to try and exact his revenge on Derek. Stiles gets some revenge of his own instead. Post Season 3 - canon divergent. Rating is subject to change.
1. one

**Author's Note: **Something a little darker and angstier than what I've been uploading recently! Rating is subject to change due to upcoming sexy times! Leave me a review and let me know what you think! C: xx

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_With a thousand lies  
And a good disguise  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
Hit 'em right between the eyes  
When you walk away  
Nothing more to say  
See the lightning in your eyes  
See 'em running for their lives_

. x .

Derek gritted his frustratingly human teeth as Deucalion's claws dug further into the back of his neck, determined not to cry out even as he felt the unmistakable scrape of claw against bone. It had been nearly two years since they – Derek's largely unmanageable little pack, plus Scott and his 'human pack' – had defeated the Alphas; Derek still felt nauseated every time he remembered how he'd ripped out Aiden's throat. Knowing that he'd essentially been forced to do so to save Allison's life didn't make the guilt any easier to live with; nor did it do anything to foster the fragile truce that had been established between him and Chris Argent. Chris had blamed Derek for Allison being out in the woods in the first place, for the fact that she'd had to spend three weeks in hospital recovering from her injuries.

A tiny part of him, the dark, twisted part he preferred to keep hidden, was now mocking him, telling him he should have done more make sure Deucalion couldn't come back. He'd foolishly assumed that the injuries that he and Scott had inflicted on him had been too serious to survive; he'd tracked the man's scent until it reached the fast flowing river on the edge of the preserve. When he'd been unable to pick anything up on the other side of the water, he'd come to the conclusion that Deucalion must have drowned, his body washed out to the Pacific. Now, on his knees in the mud and leaf mold, Deucalion's claws piercing his skin as they grated hideously against the bone of his spine, Derek couldn't decide who he hated more, Deucalion for continuing to exist, or himself, for being careless enough to find himself in this situation.

Deucalion hadn't succumbed to his injuries, nor had he had the decency to drown in the river that night; Derek supposed the one saving grace was that none of Deucalion's pack had survived, having encountered Argent's hunters on the outskirts of town, sticking militantly to the code as they'd hacked Ethan and Kali in half. Derek had watched from a rooftop nearby, needing to know for certain that the threat had gone. All this meant now was that Deucalion had become an Omega; albeit one with a terrifying amount of power.

"Where's your pack now, Hale?" Deucalion hissed, bringing his head level with Derek's ear. Derek tried to turn his head away from the stench of Deucalion's breath but the tight grip the omega had on his neck made it impossible, as did the wolfsbane currently coursing through his system and sapping his strength and preventing him from shifting.

"They're close." Derek growled, not caring whether Deucalion could hear the lie in his voice. It wasn't a complete lie; the members of his pack were all away at school, with th exception of Boyd, who was up in Washington, and Allison who didn't count, they'd all picked colleges in California in a bid to keep the pack strong. Scott and Isaac were the nearest, both attending Chico State. Isaac came back to town on a regular basis, but now he thought about it, Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Scott. Although, he supposed that might have more to do with him not speaking to Stiles than Scott not being in town.

"That's not what I hear." Deucalion drawled. "I hear they've all up and left you. Abandoned you. Well, all except this one."

A very human scream from somewhere close by made Derek jerk his head up, forcing Deucalion's claws further into his neck. _Stiles_, his brain helpfully supplied. That was Stiles screaming. He wondered for a moment if the wolfsbane was making him delirious as well as weak; Stiles was supposed to be a good couple of hours drive away at school in Arcata. Derek tried not to think too much about the last conversation he'd had with Stiles about that, viciously accusing Stiles of only applying to schools in state in some desperate bid to stay close to him and that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Stiles had looked like he was about to cry for a second before telling Derek to 'go fuck himself' and driving off. Derek hadn't seen him again since that night and only found out from Isaac when he left town without saying goodbye; Derek had been determined not to let that bother him, and had been doing fairly well until one night when he'd been feeling particularly low about his pack all being out of town for college. He'd gone up to the woods to glower at his old house for an hour before driving around aimlessly, only realising he was heading out of town and up towards Humboldt State when he'd pulled over for gas.

"I found your pet, Hale. That tiresome little human you insist on keeping around."

"He's nothing to do with this." Derek said in an undertone. "Leave him..."

"Too late." Deucalion snapped as two heavy set men appeared in the clearing, dragging Stiles between them. Even through the cloying scent of Stiles' fear and his own blood, Derek could smell that Deucalion's lackeys were human, which given the condescension in the older man's voice as he spoke about Stiles, surprised him. He felt his heart start to race as he saw Stiles for the first time in over a year.

"What's the matter? Can't turn anyone now you're an omega?" Derek growled, earning himself a violent kick in the ribs. He tried to twist away to ease the pain in his freshly broken ribs but was prevented by Deucalion's tight hold on him.

"Hired muscle, nothing more."

"Pathetic." Derek spat as one of the men pushed Stiles closer to Deucalion and Derek, twisting one of his arms viciously behind his back. From this close, Derek could make out the blood smeared across Stiles' left cheek, the look of defiant terror on his face. He could also see that Stiles was refusing to look directly at him, even though it was apparently causing him more pain to do so.

"Oh hey look," Stiles muttered as he was pushed in front of Deucalion. "It's the big bad wolf."

"You shut your mouth." The burly guy holding Stiles snarled and yanked his arm further up his back; Derek winced in sympathy as he heard the bones in Stiles' shoulder groan in complaint. "You don't talk to him."

"I'll do, ow, what I want." Stiles bit back, his face twisted in pain. "And, ow, trust me man, better people than you have, ow, tried and failed to get me shut up. Ow."

"Be quiet!" Derek closed his eyes, grimacing as the guy punched Stiles hard in the back of the head, knocking him to the floor. He must have indicated in some way that he wasn't watching the scene unfolding in front of him as Deucalion gave a humourless laugh and grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head upwards and forcing him to watch as Stiles was kicked viciously in the stomach; he looked on in disgust as Stiles rolled onto his side, curling in on himself , presumably in a bid to lessen the impact of the guy's boot. Derek could taste the bile rising in his throat as he watched the man's boot swinging towards Stiles' now exposed face and tried to cry out; the sound died quickly as Deucalion gripped him around the neck, his claws pressing into the thin skin of his throat, bringing fresh trickles of blood with them. There was a sickening thud as Stiles was kicked in the face and Derek turned away, his eyes squeezed tight shut, not caring that Deucalion's claws were cutting into his throat and that at any second the older man could slice his windpipe open.

"Oh, you'll watch this, Hale." Deucalion sneered. "Just like you watched Argent's hunters cut my wolves in half. And when we find the rest of your pack, you can watch what we do to them too. And then once they're all gone, well, you can watch what I'll do to you."

"'m not pack." Stiles gasped from where he lay curled up in the dirt, dragging in air in deep, shaky breaths.

"What?"

"Go on, ask him." Stiles hissed. "He'll tell you."

"You lie, human." Deucalion countered.

"No, I really don't. Tell him Derek, tell him how I'm not part of your pack."

Derek cringed inwardly; yes, maybe he had told Stiles that once during a particularly heated argument in a bid to get Stiles to back off. It had worked to some extent; Stiles had stopped hanging around the warehouse and loft with the pack and as a result, Derek's belongings had stopped stinking of Stiles' arousal and want making it easier for him to focus. Unfortunately, it had also resulted in Scott punching him in the face for making Stiles cry and demanding to know why Derek felt the need to be such a dick about Stiles having feelings for him and couldn't he have just let him down gently. That had annoyed Derek more than the punch to the face; he'd been trying to let Stiles down gently for months but subtly was a language Stiles didn't seem to speak and he'd continued dropping increasingly unsubtle hints about how they could be more than friends while making snarky remarks about the woman Derek had been seeing at the time in a bid to distract himself from his own feelings about Stiles. Being hurtful and spiteful was the only way Derek had been able to make him go away; he wasn't particularly proud of his actions but kept reminding himself that Stiles deserved better, far more than he could ever offer. After being told in no uncertain terms that nothing was ever going to happen between them, Stiles had stopped chasing after him and got on with his life.

He was jerked back to the present by the feeling of Deucalion's hand slipping away from his throat as he snarled and snapped at Stiles. Derek wondered if enough of the wolfsbane had left his system for him to be able to fight off Deucalion; even if it had, he realised, he probably wasn't strong enough to take on the two men lurking in the tree line, or to get Stiles away from any of them.

"So you keep saying," Deucalion was muttering. "but if you're not pack, then why does this – " he dug his claws sadistically into the back of Derek's neck again "– smell like it wants you?"

"Fucked if I know." Stiles replied angrily. "Again, ask _him_."

"I'm asking you."

"And I'm telling you, I don't know. Why are you even here?" Stiles demanded, trying to push himself into a seated position.

"This deserves to suffer the way I've suffered." Deucalion growled, twisting his hand to carve new wounds into the back of Derek's neck. "If it weren't for Hale, my wolves would still be alive. This would be our territory."

"You dragged me out here for revenge?" Stiles grumbled, shuffling around in the mud to glare at Deucalion. "You're going to make him watch you kill me for revenge?"

"Yes."

"Dude, Derek doesn't care. I'm not pack, I'm not important."

"Hmm, I beg to differ."

"God, could you just, you know, kill me already and get this over with. Listening to you rambling on like this is pretty torturous."

"Shut up." Deucalion snapped, nodding to the man standing behind Stiles, who landed a sickening kick to Stiles' lower back. Derek was mentally urging Stiles to shut up as well; he was desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation but with Stiles continuing to antagonise Deucalion, he was certain it would only end in death.

"Hey man, I'm just telling you the truth." Stiles gasped as he struggled to look up at Deucalion. "You're like some bad movie villain. Pathetic."

"Pathetic? To want revenge on the one responsible for the deaths of my pack? You think this and it's family haven't done the same to others?"

"He never killed anyone who didn't deserve it." Stiles muttered. "Your pack invaded his territory and hunted us down. You'd have had us all killed without a second's hesitation over nothing more than a bit of territory, so don't pretend this is some noble 'avenging their deaths' mission."

"You do not speak about my pack, human."

"I mean, you're really are pretty pathetic, aren't you?" Stiles continued conversationally, pushing himself up onto his knees and spitting out a mouthful of blood. Derek glared at him, desperately willing him to shut the hell up. Apparently the subtly of this was lost on Stiles who – Jesus Christ – was giggling as he wiped mud from his face with the back of his hand before looking up at Deucalion, a wicked grin on his face. "Come to put flowers on their graves, is that it?"

"Stiles..." Derek managed to grind out before Deucalion's claws tightened again. He could feel his own blood trickling down either side of his neck, could hear the quiet dripping sound as it fell from onto the leaves beneath him.

"Only we burned the one we had to kill. And Argent's hunters did whatever it is they do with trash." Stiles continued, turning his hand over and picking at a patch of caked on mud. "So, uh, yeah. No graves."

"You think you won't suffer for your insolence, human?" Deucalion asked, his grip on Derek loosening momentarily.

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles sighed, bowing his head. Derek could still smell the fear rolling off Stiles, but underneath that could detect the smell of something different, something that smelled a little like burning tin. "You think you won't suffer for yours?"

"You dare..."

Stiles laughed; for all it was a quiet sound, it was menacing and had Derek's wolf trembling inside him. Something about the noise Stiles had just uttered connected with a primal part of him, a part of him that wanted to run to it's den and cower until the monsters had gone away. Derek tried to drown out the part of his brain that pointed out that the way in which Stiles' was laughing at Deucalion while wearing that malevolent grin on his face was a little too Kate like; he felt his stomach roll in disgust as his devious mind attempted to compare Stiles to _her_.

"Yeah, I guess I do dare." Stiles was whispering.

"Why aren't you scared of me, human?" Deucalion demanded, his features contorting as he shifted.

"Ooh, now I am." Stiles smirked. "I mean, I've never seen a werewolf before. So fucking scared right here."

"I'll make you..."

"Yeah, make me pay. Heard you the first time."

With Deucalion's grip on his neck loosened, Derek was able to look up just enough to see Stiles still kneeling in the dirt, his lips moving as he muttered silently; no matter how hard he strained, he couldn't hear what Stiles was saying.

The burning metal smell was getting stronger now; Stiles looked up through his lashes at Deucalion, still wearing the same terrifying smile on his face. Derek watched in horror as Stiles' eyes flashed, their usual amber-brown turning a pale silvery colour in the gloom of the forest.

"I think the real question is why aren't you scared of me?" Stiles asked, holding his hand out in front of him, palm up.

"Why would I be scared of a wretched, snivelling human?" Deucalion sneered, taking a step towards Stiles as he let go of Derek. "You're weak, breakable, worthless. I pity you."

"You really shouldn't." Stiles smiled. Derek saw Deucalion cock his head to one side as a curious silver-blue ball of light formed in Stiles' hand. It was roughly the size of a softball, little crackles of electricity moving over its surface as Stiles' grin widened.

"What are..." Deucalion started, lifting his foot to step closer to Stiles; before he could finish his sentence, the ball flew from Stiles' hand, hitting Deucalion square in the chest. Derek couldn't see the expression on the older werewolf's face from where he knelt in the dirt, but he could see the look Stiles was giving him, a worrying mix of smugness and horror as the light penetrated Deucalion. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was going to happen; Derek watched, frozen to the spot as Deucalion raised his head, looking from his chest to Stiles. With a peculiarly soft sound, Deucalion...exploded? Imploded? Derek couldn't be sure; he seemed to do both at the same time before his body just disintegrated. If someone had asked Derek a week earlier what it would like to see a 200 pound plus man explode, or implode – he still wasn't quite sure, he would told them to expect blood and guts and gore flying everywhere, rather than just sort of crumbling and disappearing, leaving nothing but a smell of burning tin and singed hair. He staggered to his feet, focusing all his concentration on shifting, his eyes flashing red as he snarled at Deucalion's two lackeys, who were edging away from Stiles with looks of trepidation on their faces.

"Run." Derek growled, stepping forward in case they didn't get the idea. They apparently didn't need telling twice, running blindly into the woods without so much as a backwards glance.


	2. two

**Author's Note: **Thank yous are at the bottom!

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Derek padded guardedly towards Stiles, giving the patch of earth where Deucalion had stood a wide berth; Stiles' was too busy staring fixedly at his hand, turning it back and forth in wonderment to notice Derek approaching. Derek crouched down beside him, in two minds about whether or not to reach out; after moment's hesitation he tentatively reached out put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, forcing himself not to flinch when Stiles' jumped at the sudden touch.

"I...I did that." Stiles murmured. "I killed him."

"He would have killed you if you hadn't." Derek said softly, squeezing Stiles' shoulder.

"I didn't think it would work."

"What was that?" Derek looked over at the scorched patch of earth, where little sparkly trails of electricity still crawled over the leaves. "Was that magic?"

"You're a fucking idiot." Stiles snapped suddenly, shrugging Derek's hand off his shoulder and jumping to his feet. Derek sighed and stood up, folding his arms across his chest and scowling at Stiles.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What are you doing here, Stiles?"

"What am I doing here? Did you miss the part where I got dragged out here by Dickbag-alion's goons?"

"I meant here, town. Why aren't you at school?"

"You know what? Fuck you. I just fucking saved your ass. Again. Remember how we had that conversation about how you're supposed to say thank you to people who save your life? Say thank you, dickhead."

"Thanks..." Derek mumbled, scowling down at the forest floor.

"How did you not smell the wolfsbane? Your place reeks of it. Even I could smell it."

"Why were you at my loft? Why are you here?"

"I'm going home." Stiles huffed suddenly, turning on his heel and striding off towards the trees.

"Stiles! Wait." Derek called, rolling his eyes when Stiles ignored him, slipping between two trees. Derek chased after him, catching up with him easily and grabbing his arm.

"Get off me!" Stiles snapped, trying to shrug Derek off him.

"You're going the wrong way."

"Fuck off."

"At least come back to the road with me."

"Again, fuck off. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"So what, you're going to stay in the woods all night to prove a point?"

"Yes."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm...fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Derek. You've got no right to tell me how I'm being. You lost that privilege when you started treating me like I wasn't fit to lick your stupid dickhead boots." Stiles yelled, wrenching his arm free from Derek's grip and turning to face him. Derek blanched slightly when he remembered what he had just watched Stiles do to Deucalion. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, wanting to offer an apology for the way he'd behaved towards Stiles but couldn't find the words and turned abruptly on his heel, walking away from him.

"Oh no, you don't get to walk away from this!" Stiles shouted at him, running after him. "You owe me a fucking explanation!"

"I didn't drag you out here." Derek huffed over his shoulder. He wasn't very proud about his feeble attempt at using reverse psychology to get Stiles to follow him back to the road but decided it was better than standing in the woods arguing.

Feeble or not, it worked, and Stiles unwittingly pursued him all the way back to the road, keeping up a running commentary of why Derek was an "idiot dickhead" the whole way. Derek pointedly ignored him; he was already more than aware of his many and varied flaws and didn't need to hear them from Stiles. The cursing and muttering subsided a little as they started trudging towards town and Derek decided it was probably safe to try and speak to Stiles again.

"So why are you in town?" Derek asked as they walked down the darkened road, Stiles kicking angrily at rocks as they went.

"My dad's sick." He muttered at last, dragging one hand through his hair. "He's...he's in the hospital."

"Is he OK?"

"He's in the hospital, what do you think?" Stiles snapped, coming to a sudden halt. Derek turned to face him, unsure of whether to take a step closer or not. Stiles was refusing to meet his questioning gaze, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he glared down at the road.

"Sorry."

"They said it's just angina." Stiles said quietly, scuffing the toe of his boot against the asphalt. "But they need to keep him in for tests. To make sure."

"How are you doing?"

"Don't pretend you even give half a fuck." Stiles replied, marching away purposefully. Derek just sighed quietly and trailed after him.

The rest of the walk back into town, all nearly two hours of it, was conducted in relative silence. Silence on Derek's behalf as he slouched along, his gaze fixed on the floor; Stiles was making disgusted little tutting noises in his throat whenever he caught sight of Derek. Derek ignored him; figuring that it wasn't worth trying to reason with Stiles when he was still so angry. He politely ignored the quiet sniffling sounds he could hear from behind him every so often, deciding that making a comment to Stiles about how he knew he was crying would not help matters.

"I'll walk back to your dad's with you if you want." Derek suggested tentatively when his building came in to view.

"Why would I want you to do that?" Stiles asked. "I didn't even want to walk back into town with you, it was just easier than going the wrong way."

"Thought you might want the company."

"You're not company, Derek. You're a fucking silent, brooding burden."

Derek lapsed into silence again as they neared his building, trying not to look over at Stiles, lest he say something he regret. It suddenly dawned on him that once they reached his loft, that would be it; Stiles would invariably head back to his dad's house and slip back off to college without a word, leaving Derek to sit around feeling sorry for himself once more.

"You look good." Derek blurted out as they came to a standstill outside his loft, silently berating himself for managing to pick one of the more inappropriate things he'd been thinking. It was true after all; Stiles had filled out since last time Derek had seen him, and it looked like he was attempting to grow a beard. He was still sporting a plaid shirt and jeans, although both were a little tighter than anything Derek had ever seen him wear in the past. Combined with the low v-neck shirt he was wearing underneath and the scuffed, brown leather boots, he vaguely reminded Derek of a guy that worked in the coffee shop in his old neighbourhood in Brooklyn; a guy he'd had a ridiculous, one sided crush on for a good six months. The mud and blood smeared all over his skin and clothes was doing absolutely nothing to stop Derek from wanting to stare at him.

"You don't get to say stuff like that to me." Stiles frowned, stepping back from Derek to lean against the wall, his arms folded defensively across his chest once more.

"I guess I don't." Derek sighed. "But then you haven't been here to say it to."

"You know what, even if I had been here, you don't get to say that sort of stuff." Stiles continued; he didn't sound angry anymore, just exhausted. "You knew. You knew how I felt about you and you just treated me like shit because of it. You told me I wasn't pack. You were...well, I can't think of a word strong enough or harsh enough to say what you were. I hated you, Derek. I still hate you."

"You hate me?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's complicated."

"Why did you come to here before? You said you could smell the wolfsbane." Derek asked, leaning against the wall besides Stiles all the while maintaining a cautious distance.

"I was drunk. I came by to yell at you." Stiles admitted with a shrug. "Like I said, I still kind of hate you."

"Oh."

"So are you still seeing that girl?"

"What?"

"That girl. Jenna or whatever she was called. Kind of trashy looking." Stiles said with a sneer.

"I know who you meant. And no." Derek frowned at him, fiddling with his keys in pocket. "We broke up."

"She dumped you, you mean."

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"It was a guess. I just sort of assumed your charming personality would have shone through at some point and she'd have realised what a massive douche you actually are."

"That's not how it happened." Derek sighed. "She found out I had feelings for someone else."

"You're a robot. You're incapable of feelings."

Derek sighed again and pushed off the wall, yanking his keys out of his pocket and walking towards the door to the building. As he pulled it open he glanced over at Stiles, who was still leaning against the wall, scowling up at the apartment block across the street.

"If you say so Stiles."

"Or were you just a robot when it involved me? What if it had been Erica that liked you? Or Lydia or someone?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you on the street." Derek told him wearily. "If you want to bitch at me, you can come in and do it." He held the door open, looking expectantly at Stiles who narrowed his eyes resolutely. "You can use the shower if you want."

"Fine." Stiles sighed dramatically. "But just so we're clear, I'm only coming in because I don't want to walk through town covered in blood. I'm not coming in to appease your guilt."

Derek shrugged, stepping back to allow Stiles to pass. Another awkward silence descended on them as they rode the elevator up to Derek's floor. He snuck a glance at Stiles as he pointedly avoided eye contact in the cramped space. In the low light of the elevator he could easily see the tear tracks through the dirt on Stiles' face.

He let Stiles into the apartment, watching as Stiles glared derisively around the large open plan room.

"Still doesn't look like anyone actually lives here." Stiles grumbled. Derek gave a humourless laugh; it had been one of Stiles' favourite little things to tease him about when he'd first moved into the loft, the lack of furniture and any personal touches. Derek had argued that he didn't need _things _and that the loft was perfectly functional. For about a week after he'd moved in, Stiles and Erica had waged a "sneak hideous thrift store items into Derek's kitchen" campaign but this had come to an abrupt end when one of the twin alphas had attacked Stiles in the locker room at school, putting him in hospital for the best part of a month with broken ribs and a punctured lung, followed by a subsequent infection that stopped him being discharged earlier. The attack seemed to knock the wind out of Stiles' sails when it came to antagonising werewolves and he had become very subdued around the rest of the pack for a few months afterwards, as though he was expecting them to attack him at anytime as well; the thrift store item game was never restarted, but Derek still had the truly dreadful 'three wolves howling at moon' mug that Stiles had hidden in the back of the refrigerator.

"So can I use your shower now?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms and scowling at Derek, who nodded.

"It's through the bedroom."

"I remember."

Derek lifted himself up on the kitchen counter, not caring that he was still covered in filth and dirt from the woods. He kicked off his boots and drummed his fingers against the cabinet door as he listened to the shower starting up; he was aware that Stiles was muttering to himself and chose to focus his hearing on the noises of the street outside, unwilling to hear whatever angry things Stiles had to say about him.

It occurred to him as he listened to a car drive past that Stiles might want clean clothes to put on once he was done in the shower, rather than re-dressing in filthy jeans and a ripped shirt. He hopped off the counter and made his way up the spiral staircase, yanking open the dresser drawer once he reached the bedroom and pulling out a pair of clean sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt.

"You're listening to me shower?" Stiles asked in annoyance as he appeared in the doorway to Derek's en suite.

"You got a tattoo." Derek replied, aware that this wasn't really an appropriate answer to Stiles' question. Stiles looked down at his own left arm, covered from shoulder to elbow with striking black and grey designs, a few hints of teal here and there.

"And? What do you care?"

"It suits you." Derek shrugged, looking down at the clothing he was holding. "Here. I thought you might want something clean to wear."

"I'm not wearing your clothes." Stiles sneered, tightening the towel around his waist. "Who'd want to dress like you?"

"Who'd want to dress like Brooklyn circa 2009." Derek huffed in response, throwing the sweat pants he had been holding out to Stiles onto the bed.

"Fuck you. I look good."

"You look like a Williamsburg refugee." Derek shrugged, walking away towards the staircase and leaving Stiles grumbling as he picked at his mud encrusted jeans. "Get dressed. I'll drive you home."

"I'm not getting in your car."

"Fine. Walk home then." Derek snapped, finally losing patience with Stiles' griping and sarcastic comments. "I get that you're pissed at me, but tonight wasn't my fault."

"Not your fault?!" Stiles spluttered, yanking on his jeans and following Derek to the staircase. "Those fuckers dragged me out into the woods because of you. Because they're under the impression that I'm part of your stupid pack."

"But you still don't get it, do you?" Derek turned on his heel at the top of stairs; Stiles hadn't been expecting it and nearly crashed into him as he pulled on his t-shit.

"Get what?"

"Why I said you weren't pack. I was trying to keep you safe. You heard Deucalion tonight; they targeted you because they thought you were weak, because you're human."

"Don't pretend you told me to get lost out in some noble bid to protect me." Stiles scoffed. "You let Lydia and Danny be part of the pack. In case you hadn't noticed, they're both human. Why can't you just admit the real reason why you didn't want me to be here."

"Enlighten me Stiles. What was the real reason?" Derek asked in exasperation, leaning back against the railing behind him. "Because I can't think of anything else."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Stiles yelled, his hands bunching into loose fists by his sides. "You didn't kick me out of your pack to keep me safe. You kicked me out because you found out I liked you and that weirded you out. Why couldn't you have just dealt with it like a normal person? I'd have got over it eventually. But, no. You're Derek Hale, douchebag extraordinaire who has to over-react and blow everything out of proportion."

"I blow everything out of proportion?" Derek scoffed, tightening his grip on the railing until his knuckles whitened. "Because you're the model of self control and restraint. You're still holding a grudge because I didn't handle you having a crush on me as well as I could. Get over it."

"You get over it. What was so wrong with me liking you? Seriously? Couldn't you have just gone with 'Hey, Stiles, I'm not into guys' instead of essentially telling me to fuck off and die?"

Derek pursed his lips and looked away, feeling the metal railing behind him start to bend beneath his hands. "You don't know what you're talking about." He sighed at last.

"I don't know what I'm talking about? Dude, I was there! I know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I meant about guys. About me not being into guys."

"What?" Stiles looked taken aback for a second before an angry flush covered his cheeks. "Oh. Oh, well that's just perfect. So it wasn't even anything to do with me being a guy. It was just that I was so fucking unappealing as a person, right? Guess it was like an insult or something, right? Someone like me having the audacity to have a crush on someone like you?"

"For someone who's meant to be intelligent, you're incredibly stupid sometimes." Derek snapped, letting go of the railing and pushing Stiles away from him. "How is that pity party working out for you?"

"Fuck you."

"It was never about you." Derek scowled, marching over to his bed and sitting down. "It wasn't about you having feelings for me. It was about me having them for you."

"You don't have..."

"Yeah, heard you the first time. Don't have feelings. I'm a robot." Derek huffed. "Well I do...did."

"For me?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." Stiles told him, sliding to the floor and leaning back against the railing. "If you did, you wouldn't have treated me the way you did."

"I'm sorry."

"Not good enough. Why did you treat me like that?"

"Because you deserved better." Derek replied uncomfortably. "Better than me, I mean. You didn't deserve me treating you the way I did, but I didn't know how else to stop you having feelings for me."

"You could have tried talking to me. Telling me how you felt. Anything really, except being a gigantic prick and treating me like shit."

"I tried." Derek said as he stifled a yawn. "I tried to let tell you I wasn't interested and you didn't listen. I didn't want you wasting your life with me, putting yourself in danger because of me."

"I don't put myself in danger. Danger puts me in it." Stiles sighed, rubbing at the mud on his jeans. "Did it never occur to you that I could have made a decision about whether I wanted that or not myself?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"That's the problem with you, Derek. You always think you're doing the right thing, except nine times out of ten, it turns right around and bites you in the ass."

"Don't I know it." Derek replied with a wry smile.

"It's not really just about the danger though, is it?" Stiles continued, looking down at the floorboards. "You don't seem to have a problem putting people in danger. You put all your betas in danger by turning them. What else was it?"

"You were only 17. I'm six years older than you."

"Seriously? Numbers? So what if you're older than me? I've fucked someone older than you and nothing bad happened."

"What? Who?" Derek demanded as he looked up suddenly, feeling a little annoyed at the smug smile Stiles shot him.

"Just this guy I met at a bar near school. I think he was, like thirty."

"You're 19, Stiles. What are you doing sleeping with a thirty year old? What were you even doing in a bar?"

"Having fun? I realise that's kind of an alien concept for you." Stiles shrugged lackadaisically. "What do you care who I have sex with? It's none of your business. Just like it was none of my business when you were banging trashy girl."

"Jenna."

"Whatever. Why was I too young for you and she wasn't? Wasn't she some fifteen year old high school drop out?"

"She was twenty when we got together." Derek huffed. He really wasn't interested in talking about Jenna, much less hearing Stiles make all the same old snide remarks about her. He'd liked her, sure, but their relationship had never been particularly serious; more of a rebound thing on her behalf and a 'hide from my inappropriate feelings about Stiles' on his.

"You met her at the bowling alley."

"Ice rink." Derek corrected automatically. "She worked with Boyd. And she graduated high school. She's gone away to..."

"I'm really not interested in hearing about your ex-girlfriend." Stiles interrupted, looking down at his fingernails. "I'm more interested in hearing about these feelings you supposedly had for me."

"What am I supposed to say?" Derek asked with a scowl. "I like you. Probably more than I should."

"Like as in present tense? Not as in liked, before I went to college?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's, uh, interesting."

Derek flinched, annoyed that Stiles had picked up on his use of the present tense; when he looked over at him, he saw the calculating smile on Stiles' face that always meant bad news for someone.

"Look good how?" Stiles asked.

"What?"

"Before, outside. You said I looked good. Were you just trying to be polite or do you actually think I look good?"

"I think you look good. I've always thought that." Derek shrugged. "I didn't stop thinking that just because you went away."

"So, hypothetically, if I came over there and kissed you, what would you do?"

"What?"

"You heard. Answer the question."

"I don't know what I'd do."

"Want to find out?"

**Thankies and the like!**

**LilMissChinie -** Thank you sweetie! C: x

**xxSterekfan6xx - **Don't be hating on Derek! There are REASONS he's being a dickbag! ;) x

**vampqueen440 - **Thankies C: x

**zion11111 - **Aww, thank you lovely! Thankfully this isn't going to be anywhere near as long as I'll Be With You Through the Dark! x

**njferrell - **Thanks for the review! C: Magicky stuff will be explained soon :D x


	3. three

**Author's Note: **M rated chapter right here, folks! Might have to change the rating of this for the next chapter because things are about to take a turn for the lemony! Thanks for the reviews, they make me a happy dork! :D xx

* * *

"You said you hate me. Before."

"I also said it's complicated." Stiles shrugged, taking several steps closer to the bed, still smiling worryingly. "Doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you. Or, you know, whatever."

Derek blushed as Stiles cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him, deciding he wasn't going to focus on what 'whatever' might entail right now. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss Stiles right now; he'd been wanting to kiss Stiles since the night the Kanima had trapped them both in the pool, but Stiles had been sixteen then and no matter how much he told himself that Stiles was mature for his age, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would be behaving exactly like Kate if he'd tried anything. He glanced up at Stiles, Stiles who definitely wasn't sixteen anymore, who wasn't the awkward, clumsy kid he'd first met out in the woods.

"So do you?" Stiles asked, taking another step closer and smiling wickedly. Derek swallowed and nodded dumbly, figuring he had nothing to lose at this point. "Fucking awesome." Stiles murmured, surging forward and quickly closing the distance between them. He wasted no time in straddling Derek's legs, snaking his arms around his neck.

"Are you sure?" Derek started to ask as Stiles watched him intently for a few seconds. Stiles didn't reply immediately, just leant forward and captured Derek's lips with his own. Derek tried and failed to stop the little moaning sound that escaped his mouth as Stiles parted his lips, his tongue flicking lightly against Derek's own.

Derek put his hands on Stiles' hips, still feeling a little surprised that this was even happening; Stiles moaned at the contact, rolling his hips and grinding down against Derek's rapidly hardening cock as he deepened the kiss.

"Stiles..." Derek murmured, pulling back slightly as Stiles bit down on his bottom lip. "Wait."

"Ugh, what?"

"I – I'm still kind of covered in blood and wolfsbane." Derek mumbled, rubbing his thumb in circular motions on Stiles' hip.

"Huh." Stiles looked down at Derek, taking in the crusty reddish-brown stains on his arms and neck, the faint hint of lilac powder still clinging to his stubble.

"Can this...will you wait until I've taken a shower?"

Stiles shrugged, getting off Derek's lap and flopping backwards across the bed. "My attention span is still pretty shit, so hurry it up." He grumbled, stifling a yawn. Derek nodded, grabbing the pair of sweats he had thrown onto the bed earlier and headed for the bathroom, leaning heavily against the door as he closed it. Thankfully the mirror was still fogged up from when Stiles had taken his shower earlier and he didn't have to look at the mess he was in.

He turned on the water and stepped under the spray. He cursed loudly as the icy cold water hit his skin and heard Stiles' laughter float through from the bedroom; evidently he'd turned the temperature right down when he'd finished in what he undoubtedly thought was a hilarious way. Derek huffed, turning it back up to just short of scalding hot, scrubbing roughly at his skin until the water started running clear, all traces of blood and wolfsbane washed away.

He focused his attention on the bedroom, listening to the sound of Stiles pulling open drawers as he towelled himself dry and rolled his eyes. That was another old habit of Stiles', and Erica's to some extent as well, looking through his stuff. He'd once overheard Erica telling Stiles to get out of his underwear drawer and that he wasn't going to "find the answer to the Derek Hale mystery" in there. He shook his head, throwing the towel to one side and pulling on his sweats before heading back into the bedroom, finding Stiles standing guiltily beside his dresser.

"I know what you were doing."

"Force of habit." Stiles sighed, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "Me and Erica kind of used to do that, you know, before."

"I know. You and Erica were never as subtle as you thought you were." Derek laughed shortly, sitting down on the bed. "She always asks about you, you know? When she calls. I thought you two were friends."

"We were." Stiles mumbled, sitting down beside Derek. "It was just...after you told me to fuck off, it was too hard to be friends with her. With any of them."

"Sorry."

"So you said." Stiles shrugged, looking Derek up and down in a completely unsubtle way. "Want to make out some more?"

"If that's what you want..." Derek started, looking down at the floor. Stiles made a scoffing sound, lying back against the pillows and grabbing for Derek's hand, pulling him down beside him.

"Trust me, I've wanted this for a long time." Stiles whispered, inching closer to Derek. "And yeah, I might kind of still hate you a little bit, but I want to do this more." He closed the gap between them, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss against Derek's lips.

"I've wanted this for a long time too." Derek admitted, draping his arm around Stiles' waist. "Since..."

"Shh." Stiles muttered, leaning forward and kissing him. "Don't really want to talk about feelings and all that junk."

Derek shrugged, allowing himself to be pulled into a hungry kiss; Stiles moaned into his mouth, grabbing hold of his wrist and rolling over, dragging Derek on top of him. He opened his mouth once more, letting Stiles lick his way in, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulders as he did so; Stiles arched his back, pressing up against him, his semi erect cock brushing against Derek's own.

"Could you just..." Stiles mumbled, pushing at Derek. "Get off me a sec."

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Derek replied, breaking off their kiss and sitting up.

"I just wanted to take my shirt off." Stiles laughed as tugged his filthy t-shirt up and over his head, throwing it onto the floor. "It kind of stinks of forest and blood. I wasn't telling you to stop."

He reached for Derek's hand, entwining their fingers and pulling him back down on top of him. Derek obliged, pressing Stiles' arm down against the mattress, holding him in place as he leant down to kiss him; just before their lips met, he caught the pleased smile on Stiles' face and moved his hand in response, wrapping it tightly around Stiles' wrist.

"Figured you'd be the type to want to pin someone down." Stiles murmured between kisses. "All that shoving me around you used to do."

"Figured you'd be the type to enjoy it." Derek countered, tightening his grip on Stiles and yanking his arm further up the bed. "I could always smell it, you know. The way you used to react to me pushing you around." He leant back in, kissing Stiles hungrily, the way he'd wanted to for years. Stiles squirmed underneath him, making a feeble attempt to pull his wrist from his grip while arching his hips up off the bed.

"You're almost making up for being such a dick to me." Stiles muttered as Derek licked and nipped his way down his neck. Derek huffed against the neck, nipping a little harder. Stiles made an aborted gasping noise, digging the fingernails of his free hand into Derek's lower back as he rutted up against him. He pulled back and looked down at Stiles, receiving a pathetic little whine as he watched him; the sight of Stiles, all kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks made him throw caution to the wind and he moved quickly, throwing one leg over Stiles hips so he was straddling him. Stiles grinned up at him, raising an eyebrow when Derek grabbed his other hand and holding them both against the bed.

"I like when you're all quiet like this." Derek murmured, rolling his hips and feeling an answering twitch from Stiles' cock.

"You had ample opportunities to make me be quiet in the past." Stiles replied breathily, lifting his knee against Derek's back in an attempt to make him lean down. "You chose not to take them."

Derek snorted quietly in response, rolling his hips again and grinning when Stiles bit his lip in frustration.

"You think you could actually go back to kissing me now? Instead of just being a cocktease?"

Derek leant forward until there was less than an inch between them, Stiles' breath warm against his skin. "Or you'll do what?"

Stiles whined again, lifting his head and trying to capture Derek's lips with his own; Derek pulled back slightly, just out of Stiles' reach and grinned when Stiles' whining noises became an affronted whimper.

"Were you always this much of a prick?" Stiles complained. "I definitely remember you being slightly less dickish."

"Were you always this impatient?" Derek smirked, lowering his head and brushing his lips against Stiles. "Wait, who am I kidding? Of course you were." He tightened his grip on Stiles' wrists and finally closed the gap between them. He'd always found himself holding back when he'd kissed people in the past; the less said about what Kate had expected of him the better, but Nina, the girl he'd been with in New York, had always complained if he got too rough and domineering. With Jenna, he hadn't even bothered trying to explain what he liked, letting her take the lead and do what she wanted with him; it had always seemed easier than arguing. He got the distinct impression from the way Stiles was moaning and writhing underneath him that he didn't need to worry about holding back now.

He bit hard on Stiles' swollen bottom lip again before dragging his nose down Stiles' neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

"Freaking werewolves." Stiles said softly, trying to lift his hips off the bed again. "What's with all the sniffing all the time?"

"You smell good." Derek replied, his words muffled as gently kissed Stiles' neck, feeling his pulsed racing beneath his lips. "Always have done." He heard, and felt, Stiles laugh at that, trying to twist his arms from his grip. He grazed Stiles' neck with his teeth, moaning against his skin as Stiles gasped loudly and bit him again, harder.

"So you've got lube, right?" Stiles murmured as Derek nosed at his jaw, encouraging him to tilt his head back further.

"What?" Derek paused, leaning back in surprise.

"Lube, Derek." Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Why..."

"You don't want to have sex?" Stiles asked.

"Um." Derek was annoyed to feel himself blushing; yes, if he was completely honest, he did want to have sex with Stiles. He'd wanted to for almost as long as he'd wanted to kiss him. It had been one of the more awkward things Jenna had screamed at him when they'd broken up, if he'd ever actually thought about her when they'd had sex, or if he'd been thinking about Stiles instead. He'd lied and said he'd never thought about anyone else when they had sex, figuring that telling Jenna that he always let his mind wander to thoughts of Stiles, of the lightly defined muscles of his stomach and the dark line of hair there, the dimples at the base of his spine, of the way Stiles always seemed to have something in his mouth when he was around him. It had gotten to the point that before they broke up, he could barely even get hard without thinking about Stiles instead of Jenna.

"If you don't want to, you can just say, you know." Stiles shrugged. "Not like I'm going to run off crying about it."

"I want to." Derek replied in a small voice. "It's just I've never...you know." He let go of Stiles and flopped down beside him on the bed, ignoring the sad noise Stiles made when he moved.

"Never what? Slept with a guy?" Stiles rolled onto his side and watched him curiously.

"No. Yes. You know what I mean."

"Never?" Stiles asked doubtfully. "I thought you said you were into guys."

"I am. I just haven't had sex with a guy. I gave someone a blow job once." Derek huffed, scowling at the ceiling, figuring that Stiles didn't need to know all the painfully embarrassing details of that incident, because it certainly wasn't one he was particularly proud of. It had happened right after he'd split up with Nina, his first attempt at a relationship after Kate; it hadn't been a good break up, as far as he could tell, with lots of accusations about lack of trust and emotional unavailability. He'd wondered for a while afterwards if things would have worked out better if he'd been able to tell Nina that the reason he didn't trust her and was 'emotionally unavailable' was because the last person he'd slept with had murdered his family. Although telling her would have brought up a whole new set of issues he wouldn't have been able to speak to her about and that she could have been angry about; it was probably better, he thought, that things had ended when they did. Not that he hadn't felt pretty cut up about it and in a truly clichéd move had hit up the bar in an attempt to drown his sorrows. It hadn't really worked, due to his body's unreasonably high tolerance for alcohol, but he had ended up sloppily making out with some guy, who in the low, smoky light of the bar bore a fleeting resemblance to Jared Leto, who he'd always had a bit of a thing for. Sloppy making out had turned into the guy fisting his hand in Derek's shirt and dragging him into the bathroom, and asking if Derek would suck his cock. He'd obliged, only to be told after twenty minutes that "this isn't working for me" before receiving a very patronising pat on the cheek and a "well at least you're pretty" before the guy left, leaving Derek with nothing more than a sore jaw and an even worse feeling about himself.

"Ooh, check you out. One blow job." Stiles grinned impishly. "Wait, are you one of those people who doesn't give as good as he gets?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you let someone suck your dick but don't return the favour." Stiles clarified, toying with the drawstring of Derek's sweats.

"What? No!" Derek huffed in reply. "I just haven't had that much, you know, sex."

"How come?" Stiles asked, shuffling closer to Derek and wrapping the drawstring around his index finger. "I mean, you've seen you, right? Not even when you were in New York? No one night stands? Nothing?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've never slept with someone without being in a relationship with them first." He admitted, scowling when Stiles pulled a face. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! No judging here." Stiles replied. "I'm just surprised, you always seemed more like you'd be the fuck them and leave type. You know, so messy feelings don't get involved."

"Is that what you do then?"

"Not always." Stiles shrugged, letting go of the drawstring of Derek's pants and sitting up. "I've had a few relationships. Just seems like too much hassle though. Plus I really, really like sex. Every time I've been with someone for more than a month or so it stops being interesting."

"Oh."

"Now who's looking all judgey." Stiles grinned, leaning back against the wall. "There's nothing wrong with liking sex. Sex is awesome, so are blow jobs. If I could major in giving blow jobs instead of anthropology, I totally would."

Derek tried to think of a way to respond to that statement but quickly gave up, looking over at Stiles as he put one arm behind his head and shuffled around slightly, getting more comfortable on the bed.

"I'll blow you, if you want." Stiles continued matter-of-factly, scratching his stomach. Derek bit back a moan, trying to pretend that the thought of Stiles giving him a blow job hadn't made his cock twitch in anticipation. "You do want, don't you?"

"Yes." Derek muttered thickly, trying not to notice the way in which Stiles was staring so eagerly at his crotch where his baggy sweats were doing precisely nothing to hide his erect cock.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." Stiles grinned, moving quickly to kneel between Derek's legs and fisting his hands in the loose material of his sweats, tugging them down lower. Before Derek could offer an opinion on just how long Stiles might have wanted to do _this_, Stiles' hand was in his sweats, wrapping around his cock and Stiles was smiling his wicked grin again.

"If it's any consolation," Derek replied breathily as Stiles started to stroke his dick unhurriedly, "I've probably wanted you to do it for just as long."

"Cute." Stiles laughed, using his free hand to pull Derek's sweat pants lower and leant down, dragging his tongue slowly up the length of his dick. Derek moaned, fisting his hands in the sheets and biting his bottom lip as Stiles stared up at him though his lashes. Stiles looked immensely pleased with himself and lowered his head further, his cheeks hollowing out as he took Derek's cock in his mouth, keeping one hand wrapped tightly around the base as he started to bob his head up and down.

"You sure you're not majoring in this?" Derek groaned, reaching for Stiles' hair and carding his fingers through it as Stiles gave a peculiar snort of laughter around a mouthful of dick. Derek fell silent, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Stiles' mouth on his cock, his tongue swirling around the head and across the slit. He bit back a moan, arching his back slightly as Stiles dug his fingernails into his thigh, screwing up his eyes in concentration as he took more of Derek's cock in his mouth. Derek was all too aware that he didn't have a great deal of experience when it came to getting a blow job; both his ex-girlfriends, and Kate, who he compartmentalised as something else entirely, had complained about the idea of oral sex, and by the time he'd broken up with Jenna, he'd completely given up asking or expecting. Stiles, on the other hand, appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, if the happy little moaning sounds escaping from his mouth every so often as he sucked and licked greedily at Derek were anything to go by.

He lifted his head off the pillow slightly to watch Stiles, groaning audibly when he saw Stiles rubbing the heel of his palm over his own straining erection. Stiles was clearly aware he was being watched as he looked up suddenly, his eyes meeting Derek's; he maintained eye contact as he swallowed down the last inch or so of Derek's cock. Derek heard himself make an odd, strangled noise, a stupidly high pitched whining sound; Stiles gave another snort of laughter and pulled off Derek's cock with an obscene popping noise.

"You like that, huh?" He smirked before lowering his head again, curling his fingers around Derek's cock, his fist moving quickly as he swirled his tongue around the head. Derek made a little keening noise, lifting his hips off the bed, wanting to feel Stiles' mouth on his cock again. As he closed his eyes, he felt Stiles' other hand moving from his thigh; Stiles stoked his thumb across his balls a few times before moving his hand back towards Derek's ass.

Derek tensed up as he felt Stiles' fingertips brushing lightly over his hole, fisting his hand tightly in the sheets. He heard Stiles mutter "relax" and forced himself to loosen his grip on the sheets. After a few minutes, when he was certain that Stiles wasn't about to jam a finger in him without lube or warning, he did start to relax, focusing on the feeling of Stiles' thumb and finger stroking gently over sensitive skin, sending little shocks of pleasure through him.

"Stiles..." He murmured, tugging gently on Stiles' hair. "I'm close."

Stiles responded by removing his hand, his cheeks hollowing out again as he bobbed his head up and down, sucking hard. Derek opened his eyes to watch just as Stiles looked up at him again. The surprise of this sudden eye contact made him lose the last little bit of control he'd been holding on to and he came hard, thrusting up into Stiles' mouth. He was completely unsurprised when Stiles swallowed every drop, making happy little "mmm" noises as he did so. What did surprise him was that Stiles didn't immediately stop once he'd come, but carried on licking and sucking his cock gently until Derek had to stop him, having become oversensitive to the point of what Stiles was doing feeling nearly painful. When Stiles finally sat up, tugging Derek's sweats back into place as he did so, he smiled happily down at him, his lips wet and swollen, cheeks flushed red.

"Guess I can cross 'give Derek a blow job' off my bucket list now." He grinned. Derek laughed shortly, watching Stiles through half lidded eyes; the pleasant afterglow of his orgasm combined with exhaustion from their encounter in the woods left him suddenly unable to do anything more than grab feebly for Stiles, trying to pull him down beside him.


	4. four

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews, folks! Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up - been uber bogged down with by little ficlets and real world stuff. Feel free to leave a review, they make me smile! *M rated chapter*

* * *

"Not trying to inflate your stupid ego," Stiles started, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and lying down beside Derek. "But you've got a seriously nice dick."

"Thanks? I guess?"

Stiles gave a snort of laughter and started toying with the fly of his jeans. "So, look, these jeans are verging on uncomfortably tight without a hard on; can I take them off now?"

"Yes?" Derek replied with a frown. "Why are you asking my permission?"

"Because it's your place and I thought you might want me to go now." Stiles replied, popping the button of his pants and shimmying out of them, dropping them to the floor beside the bed.

"You don't want to go though."

"No, no I really don't." Stiles replied with a lopsided smile as he wormed his way under Derek's comforter. "What I really want right now is to have sex with you. If you're, uh, up for it, that is."

Derek rolled his eyes, deciding he wasn't going to address that particular lame attempt at a pun. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you said you only sleep with people you're in a relationship with."

Derek didn't reply, biting his bottom lip while he thought that remark over; he was pretty certain that if he said that he'd actually quite like to be in a relationship with him, Stiles would bolt and he wouldn't see him again. Although he'd definitely be lying if he said he didn't want to have sex with him, relationship or not.

"Making an exception then?" Stiles asked with a smile. "I'm so flattered."

"Something like that."

Stiles grinned, laying one hand on Derek's shoulder and pulling him closer and kissing him lazily, hand straying up into his hair. Derek slipped his arm around Stiles, sliding his hand down his back until his fingers were nudging at the waistband of his boxers. Taking a deep breath, he slipped his hand under the elastic, grabbing hold of Stiles' ass cheek and squeezing lightly. Stiles moaned obscenely, pressing up against him, his hardening cock brushing against Derek's hip; he squeezed slightly harder in response, earning another moan from Stiles.

He tipped his head back, letting Stiles kiss his way down his neck, his eyes opening wide in surprise when Stiles bit him. He growled low in his throat, glaring at Stiles and receiving a smirk in return; Stiles was clearly unconcerned by the challenge. So, biting. That was new. He definitely wasn't complaining though; the scrape of Stiles' teeth against his throat was making him shiver deliciously.

As Stiles worked his way lower, licking across the hollow of his throat, he blurted out the question that had been plaguing him since the night had taken this unexpected turn; "How many people have you slept with?"

"I'm clean if that's what you're asking. I'm not stupid, I get tested and I don't fuck without protection."

"Not what I was asking. Couldn't catch anything if you weren't clean." Derek shrugged. "I wanted to know."

"Look buddy, if I'm giving you my magic number, I at least get to know what yours is in return." Stiles grumbled, poking Derek in the ribs.

"Three."

"Not buying it."

"It's not for you to buy, Stiles. I've slept with three people, that's the truth. How about you?"

"But you – well, you look like you."

"How many?"

"Nine guys, three girls."

"You prefer sleeping with guys?" Derek asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

"I'm not overly choosy." Stiles shrugged. "More a case of guys seem to be more willing to sleep with me than girls are." He watched Derek for a moment, before shuffling closer to him and pulling him into a kiss. "You want to though, right?"

"Want to what?"

"Have sex with me." Stiles kept his hand around the back of Derek's neck, stroking the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Derek swallowed, watching Stiles intently before nodding once. "Yes."

Stiles gave him a smug smile, pulling him back down into a filthy kiss and running his hand down Derek's back, fingernails dragging over his skin. Derek moaned into his mouth, grabbing hold of Stiles' upper arm and pulling him, none too delicately, closer. Stiles dug his fingernails into his lower back, arching his hips up off the bed, seeking contact, the comforter between them preventing him from rubbing up against Derek. Derek growled, shoving the comforter down to the foot of the bed and reaching down to rub Stiles' cock through his underwear, grinning when he heard Stiles gasp loudly at the contact.

Feeling encouraged by the noises Stiles was making, he slipped his hand below the waistband of Stiles' boxers, wrapping his hand loosely around his cock and jacking him slowly, the way he liked. Stiles apparently, didn't like, and made a pathetic whining noise, trying to fuck up into Derek's hand.

"You're trying to torture me, aren't you?" He asked breathily. "Is this your way of getting me back for being insanely annoying? Are you trying to slow hand job me to death?"

"Are you trying to talk me to death?" Derek asked, shifting his weight slightly and pushing Stiles' hip down against the bed with his elbow to stop him from moving.

"You're an asshole." Stiles muttered.

"Probably."

Stiles gave a short laugh, tilting his head back and biting his bottom lip as Derek continued stroking his dick, his skin flushing.

"I...um, haven't got any condoms." Derek muttered after a while. "Haven't needed any for a while."

"Lube and no condoms?" Stiles grinned, cocking an eyebrow. "That says a lot about what you get up to in your spare time."

"Fuck you."

"Yes please." Stiles smirked, running his hand through his hair and chewing on his bottom lip in contemplation. "So, you can't catch anything, right? So basically you're clean as well? Can't pass any nasties on to me?"

"I guess. Are you that bothered? You already blew me without using anything."

"Blow jobs are different."Stiles told him with a wave of his hand.

"Not really. You can still catch stuff."

"Whatever. I get tested, I'm clean. Look, I'll be honest, I've been wanting to have sex with you since I was sixteen. I'm not really going to let the fact that you're like the worst boy scout ever interfere with that."

"Boy scout?"

"Be prepared and all that." Stiles grinned, running his hand lightly over Derek's stomach. "And I've always kind of wondered if it feels different without, I'm just not stupid enough to try it with random people I meet at parties or in bars."

Derek shrugged, rolling over and digging around in the bedside table until he found the half empty bottle of lube, ignoring the smirk Stiles gave him. Whatever. What he did in his own time and what got him off wasn't exactly any of Stiles' business. He dropped the lube on the bed and turned his attention back to licking his way into Stiles' mouth, enjoying the whimpering noises he was making. He was feeling odd, as though someone had flipped a switch inside of him that was letting his more dominant side show, the side he'd felt he had to keep hidden in the past. He reached for Stiles' wrists again, pinning him against the mattress and kissing him roughly until they were both gasping for breath.

"You do know what to do, right?" Stiles asked, waggling his eyebrows as Derek let go of him and picked up the lube. "With your fingers."

"I'm familiar with the concept." Derek replied with a small smile, his cheeks flushing slightly. Stiles returned his smile with what could only be described as a leer.

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

Derek ignored that, tapping Stiles on the hip until he lifted his ass of the bed so he could yank off his underwear before promptly throwing it across the room. Stiles gave him a ridiculously pleased smile, a smile that radiated 'hurry up, I've been waiting for this for a long time'. Or maybe, Derek thought, he was just projecting. Because he'd been waiting for this for a long time too. He settled himself between Stiles' legs, pushing at his inner thigh until he opened them wider and popped the cap on the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop out onto his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it up slightly. Stiles smiled again, nodding encouragingly as Derek reached for his cock, giving him a few cursory tugs before letting his hand stray further down, brushing over his balls and circling his entrance teasingly with the pad of his thumb.

Stiles whined again, making a ' get on with it' hand gesture as he bit his bottom lip. Derek hesitated, looking down at Stiles. He was feeling torn; part of him wanted to be lying back down to kiss Stiles while he fingered him, wanting to feel Stiles pressed up against him while another part of him wanted to be sat exactly where he was right now, watching his fingers disappear inside of Stiles' ass.

Stiles settled his little dilemma by lifting his head of the bed and glaring at him. "I swear to God, Derek, if you don't get a fucking move on, I'm going to kick you in the head." Derek scoffed at him, moving his free hand to Stiles' thigh as he shifted slightly, as though he were about to follow through on that promise.

"Kick me and I won't fuck you." Derek said quietly, tightening his grip on Stiles' thigh and digging his nails in just enough to make Stiles swear under his breath. He took advantage of Stiles' momentary distractedness to slowly push in with his index finger, smiling when Stiles swore again, louder this time.

"'Bout time." He murmured as Derek worked his finger in and out, leaning down to press a kiss against Stiles' stomach before dragging his tongue up the underside of Stiles' cock, which had softened slightly while they had been talking. He tried to mimic what Stiles had done to him earlier, hoping that he was making a passable attempt at a blow job and that the phrase "at least you're pretty" wouldn't crop up at any point. Stiles clearly didn't disapprove, moaning loudly and tangling his hand into Derek's hair.

"More." Stiles demanded, wriggling around slightly and pushing back against Derek's hand.

"You sure?" Derek asked, scowling when Stiles lifted his head of the pillow and scoffed at him. Apparently Stiles was sure, and he wriggled around on the bed, pushing down against Derek's hand as if to prove it. Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed for the lube again, smearing more of the thick liquid over his fingers before pushing back inside of Stiles, enjoying the way his muscles tightened around his fingers.

Before long, he was up to three fingers, crooking them upwards every couple of thrusts and enjoying the way Stiles swore when he did so. He wrapped his free hand around Stiles' cock and stroking him slowly, mostly to stop Stiles from doing it himself. The angry noise Stiles made when he batted his hand away had amused him and he was almost hoping that Stiles would try and reach for his dick again so he could hear the sound again.

"We're going to do this, then?" Derek asked uncertainly, rubbing his thumb over the head of Stiles' dick. "Have sex?"

"Don't look so concerned." Stiles smiled drowsily, biting his lip as Derek continued to slowly fuck his fingers into him. "You've had sex before."

"Yeah..."

"So what's the big deal?"

"It's not the sex." Derek muttered. "It's the fact that it's sex with you. Feels like kind of a big deal. Like I keep saying, I've liked you for a long time."

Stiles pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "Are you going to get all weird after? Because if you are, you might as well stop what you're doing right now."

"Don't want to." Derek huffed, leaning down and kissing him into silence, or as near to silence as Stiles was likely to get.

"So hurry up and fuck me then." Stiles grinned, pushing back against Derek's fingers. "Unless you're planning on just fingering me all night. Because I think you're seriously overestimating how much prep I need. I passed 'ready for Derek's cock' quite a while ago."

Derek frowned at him, withdrawing his fingers and wiping them carelessly on the sheet before reaching for the lube again. Stiles gave him an easy smile before shuffling up the bed and flipping onto his stomach. Derek rolled off the bed, slipping out of his sweats before rejoining Stiles on the bed.

"Like that?" Derek asked, squirting lube onto the palm of his hand and slicking his cock with it. "You sure?"

"Oh my fucking God." Stiles grumbled, twisting his head until he could see Derek. "Yes I'm sure. I was sure fifteen minutes ago when you were freaking out at the idea of fingerfucking me. I was sure when I was sucking your dick. I was sure when I came up here with you even though you still seriously piss me off. Would you please just get on with it. With the fucking."

Derek made an angry huffing noise in the back of his throat, grabbing hold of Stiles' hips and dragging him up onto his knees. Stiles laughed happily, letting Derek position him how he wanted him, dropping his head onto his folded arms and waggling his ass impatiently. Derek shook his head and smiled, smacking Stiles lightly on the ass with the hand that wasn't still covered in lube.

"Kinky." Stiles teased; Derek grabbed hold of him again, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of his dick to keep himself steady as he slowly pushed into Stiles, enjoying the guttural moaning sound Stiles made when he finally bottomed out.

"God you feel good." Derek muttered, digging his fingers into Stiles' hips as he pulled out slightly before thrusting back in.

"Right back at cha." Stiles murmured, rocking back against Derek and moaning again, his face still buried against his arms. He kept this up for a few minutes, speeding up or thrusting harder whenever Stiles asked. As much as he was enjoying it, enjoying the vaguely pornographic moans Stiles was making, it still wasn't quite enough and felt too much like the frankly mechanical sex he used to have with Jenna. He didn't want that with Stiles, didn't want this to just be some perfunctory fuck. He wanted Stiles closer and leant forward, wrapping his arm around Stiles chest and pulled him upwards, smirking slightly when Stiles flailed slightly.

Stiles swore loudly as Derek dragged him up into a kneeling position, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, exerting a slight pressure on his throat. He splayed his other hand out low on Stiles' abdomen, swatting Stiles' hand away when he tried to wrap his hand around his leaking cock.

"Asshole." Stiles grumbled, reaching back and yanking hard on Derek's hair.

Derek smirked, mouthing at the back of his neck and tightening his hold on Stiles' shoulders, putting slightly more pressure on his throat and making Stiles moan loudly as he thrust up into him.

"You close?" Derek asked, dragging his teeth across the back of Stiles' shoulder as he snapped his hips upwards; he definitely was, which surprised him, considering how little time had passed since he'd come in Stiles' mouth. For all the snarking and complaining Stiles had been doing, he didn't just want to blow his load and leave Stiles to finish himself off.

"Why? Want to make it super romantic and come at the same time as me?" Stiles ground out. Derek bit down harder on his shoulder and wrapped his hand tightly around his cock, hearing Stiles' plaintive little whine when he didn't immediately move it. "Bastard."

"Are you close?" Derek asked again, slightly more forcefully; he didn't really need to ask as he could hear Stiles' heart rate climbing, could feel the way his cock was twitching and leaking in his hand as Stiles tried to fuck up into it, seeking the friction he needed to push him over the edge. Stiles nodded, twisting his head and upper body as much as he could so he could kiss Derek, biting at his bottom lip until he started moving his hand.

Derek could feel his orgasm starting to pool low in his belly and began thrusting harder into Stiles, jerking his cock roughly as he did so. Stiles was muttering and cursing under his breath, the room starting to fill with the heady scent of his come as Derek's firm strokes of his cock brought him closer.

"Fuck!" Stiles stuttered, spilling hot over Derek's fist as he came. "Fuck."

He heard himself moaning Stiles' name as he pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades as he came suddenly, pushing up hard into Stiles as his muscles tensed around his cock.

Derek loosened his grip on Stiles' cock slightly, continuing to stroke him slowly until he shuddered and grabbed hold of his arm to stop him.

"You OK?" Derek asked as he let go of Stiles' shoulders and pulled out. Stiles flopped bonelessly down onto the bed, turning his head to the side to look up at Derek.

"So that was definitely worth the wait." He smiled.

Derek laughed shortly, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and moving to one side to let Stiles' sprawl out on the bed. He nudged Stiles further over to one side of the bed, before lying down beside him and dragging the comforter up over both of them.

"This is OK, right?"

"Sure, just don't go making it weird and leaking your new found feelings all over me." Stiles yawned, burying his face against the pillow. Derek snorted, draping his arm over his face and trying to ignore his brain telling him to roll over and pull Stiles closer to him. He was pretty sure that would count as 'leaking feelings' all over him.


	5. five

**Author's Note: **Last chapter folks :) Yes, it's got an ambiguous ending, but there will eventually be a sequel! Thanks for reading lovely people! :) xx

* * *

"Where did you learn how to do it?" Derek asked some time later; he wanted to close the gap between him and Stiles, to feel Stiles' skin against his own again but the tension from earlier was threatening to return. "The magic." He could hear Stiles wincing as he prodded at the bruises and marks on his chest and stomach from earlier. He wondered if he should offer to take away some of Stiles' pain, but thought he'd probably just get told to back off.

"There's this guy I met up with near school, Chogan. He knows Deaton. He showed me." Stiles shrugged, sticking one leg out from beneath the comforter. "The basics, anyway. He didn't tell me it'd...do what it did." He turned away, looking towards the window, as though that would stop Derek from hearing his shaky exhalation of breath.

"Are you OK?" He asked softly, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "After..."

"After I killed someone, you mean?" Stiles asked, turning his head back quickly and raising an eyebrow when he saw how much closer Derek was to him. "Yeah, I guess. As OK as you can be after something like that, I suppose."

"I wasn't." Derek replied. "After Peter."

"That was different. Peter's your uncle." Stiles mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It's like you said before in the woods, I didn't really have much of a choice, did I? He'd have killed us both if I hadn't...done that. I'll be OK I think. Maybe I should speak to Chogan about it when I go back up to school. I don't know."

"You could talk to me," Derek suggested tentatively, "you know, if you wanted to."

Stiles gave him a small smile, leaning across and kissing him lazily. "I could, but then we're not really friends, are we? I'm not your pack. It'd be kind of weird to call you up to talk about stuff."

Derek pulled back from the kiss, frowning at Stiles. "What's this then? If we're not friends?"

"It's just sex." Stiles shrugged, looking unconcerned that Derek had pulled away. "I don't really know how much it changes. Other than I know what your dick looks like now. Very nice, by the way."

"Would you ever want it to be more?" Derek asked quietly, hating himself for even asking the question. He was pretty sure he already knew what Stiles' answer was going to be; the annoyed huffing sound that Stiles made as he looked away left him even more convinced.

"It's not that simple." Stiles sighed, sitting up and scanning the room for his clothes. "There's just all this...stuff, and I'm in Arcata and, well, there's this guy at school..."

"You've got a boyfriend?"

"No. Toby is...he's kind of a friend with benefits I guess. I think if I asked him it'd be more though."

"What's a friend with benefits?" Derek asked tentatively.

"Seriously Derek? What world do you live in where you've never heard that before. He's a friend. Sometimes we get drunk together and fuck. Pretty simple really."

"Oh." Derek frowned. "How come you haven't asked him?"

"Because he's not who...what I want." Stiles shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at Derek. "Because he's not you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek frowned. "You just said you don't want...that with me. That you don't like me."

"I don't. I don't know. Just you're still kind of the standard by which I judge people I'm crushing on by."

"You really shouldn't."

"I know. But it's like, I meet someone and I think, oh yeah, he's pretty hot, but at the same time, I'm thinking 'but not as hot as Derek', or how they don't get my sense of humour like you did before you turned into epic dicklord and told me to fuck off. I guess now I can add 'and they don't fuck me as good as Derek' to my judgey standards." He laughed softly to himself, shaking his head. "Pretty fucking stupid, right?"

"Not really." Derek replied, reaching out and running his hand down Stiles' back, smiling to himself when he didn't flinch. "I pushed Jenna away because she wasn't you."

"I thought she dumped you?" Stiles asked, turning around and frowning at Derek's hand.

"She did. She wasn't stupid though, I told her I had feelings for someone else, had done for a while and she, well she worked it out pretty much straight away." Derek shrugged. "We, uh, kind of tried to make it work for a bit after that but it wasn't the same. She accused me of thinking about you when we had sex." He added, blushing.

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Think about me when you were banging your trashy girlfriend?"

"Couldn't get off without thinking about you." Derek admitted with a humourless laugh.

"Umm, OK." Stiles fidgeted uncomfortably on the bed, tucking the comforter tightly around his waist, as though Derek hadn't seen everything less than an hour before. "This is starting to feel weird, you know? I'm thinking it's probably time for me to go."

"I can give you ride back." Derek said quietly, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"It's just, I – I really don't want to be on my own." Stiles said quietly. "It was bad enough when I got back yesterday. After everything that's happened tonight..." He trailed off, hunching over further and hugging his knees against his chest. "I guess I'm maybe asking if I can stay. Just 'til morning. I know I've been kind of a dick to you tonight, so I get it if..."

"I'd like it if you stayed."

"Maybe I should sleep on the couch." Stiles suggested, shifting away from Derek a little. "You're...I think you've got other ideas about what this, tonight, meant."

"I haven't." Derek replied, slightly too quickly. "I know you don't want anything from me. I should sleep on you couch; you're still looking pretty beaten up."

"Come on, I know I'm not your biggest fan in the world, long awaited sex notwithstanding, but I'm not going to relegate you to your own couch. I've slept on that thing before. I know how uncomfortable it is."

Derek sighed and rubbed his eyes before pushing himself up into a sitting position. "How about neither of us sleep on the couch and I promise I won't do anything to make you feel weird?"

"Just as long as you don't proposition me again." Stiles laughed, flopping back down against the pillow. "You OK with that? Not going to get all touchy feely at me?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry, it's just I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that you have feelings. For me. It's kind of a head fuck." Stiles yawned and scratched at himself below the covers. "I always kind of thought that if you did tell me one day that you had feelings for me, I'd be all over that shit and would never want to leave, but I don't. Don't feel that way."

"That's fine. I get it." Derek sighed. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to fall into my arms and confess your love for me. I know you still hate me."

"I don't hate hate you." Stiles told him, rolling onto his side and tugging the comforter up over his shoulder. "Not going to hate you after what we've just done, but I'm hardly at one hundred percent on the liking you scale right now."

"Stiles, I get it. I hurt you. Pretty sure you're allowed to dislike me right now."

"You wish I didn't though, right?"

"Were you always this perceptive?"

"Obviously not." Stiles grinned, poking at Derek's hip. "If I was, maybe I'd have worked out why you donned your captain dickhead hat and treated me like shit a little sooner instead of spending my time sitting at home crying about how you hated me. Doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to fawn all over you just because you pulled your head out of your ass and finally managed to talk about something like a normal person."

"Got it."

"We can have sex again though, if you want to."

"Because that won't make this whole thing more confusing." Derek huffed, slipping out of bed and retrieving his sweats.

"That why you're getting dressed?" Stiles smirked. "In case I confuse you?"

"Yes." Derek replied, grabbing Stiles' underwear from where he'd thrown it earlier and tossing it back to him. Stiles laughed at him, but pulled them back on under the comforter nevertheless. Derek crossed to the wall and flicked off the lights; a fairly pointless exercise really, as the lights on the street outside were still illuminating the room.

"Think we should talk about something other than your messed up feelings for me or the fact that we just had some pretty great sex?" Stiles asked as Derek settled back down on the bed, on top of the comforter this time.

"Might be a good idea," Derek agreed, "did you, uh, hear about Erica?"

"I don't hear anything about anyone." Stiles shrugged. "Like I said before, I haven't really spoken to any of your puppies since...you know. Scott hardly keeps me filled in on what he's up to, never mind what anyone else is doing. What about Erica?"

"She's having a baby."

"Boyd's?"

"Yeah, of course. Who else's baby would she be having?"

"How should I know? They're both at different schools. Thought she might have met someone new." Stiles chewed on his bottom lip for a minute before looking up at Derek. "Is she keeping it?"

"Yeah."

"So she's going to drop out of school? Hey, will it be a born werewolf? How soon will it be able to shift after it's born if it is?"

Derek gave a short huff of laughter, thinking how much Stiles sounded like his old self, with the incessant questions and the need to know as much as possible about any given situation.

"What?" Stiles frowned, apparently affronted by Derek's laughter.

"Nothing. Just you seemed a lot like how you used to be just then. Before..."

"Before you told me to fuck off, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"You were the one that changed, not me." Stiles shrugged. "Just because I stopped asking you questions all the time doesn't mean I stopped being me. I'm still the same as I always was."

"Sorry."

"Jesus Derek, stop apologising."

Derek bit his lip to stop himself from saying sorry again, earning himself a knowing smirk from Stiles.

"Yeah, well, on that note, I'm going to sleep," Stiles laughed as he rolled over and tugging the comforter up further, hiding him from Derek's view, "the whole, um, thing in the woods really took it out of me."

"Yeah." Derek agreed, at a loss for anything else to say. He turned onto his side and gingerly rested his hand on Stiles' upper arm. He felt Stiles tense up at the contact and waited to see if he was going to get bitched at again; Stiles didn't immediately shrug him off and he relaxed slightly, pushing his pillow into a more comfortable position and closing his eyes. After a few minutes, he felt Stiles move slightly, as though he were about to push Derek's hand away from him. To Derek's surprise, Stiles reached up and covered his hand with his own for a moment before entwining their fingers and squeezing Derek's hand lightly. Derek very slowly moved forward; not quite enough to be pressed up against Stiles, but close enough. He sighed happily and felt the first waves of sleep starting to wash over him as he breathed in Stiles' comforting scent.

**. o o o .**

Derek woke suddenly, instantly aware that he was the only person in the apartment. He buried his face in his pillow, groaning softly and wondering how Stiles had managed to sneak out without waking him. He rolled over, running his hand across the sheets; he was convinced he could still feel a tiny bit of warmth on them, suggesting that Stiles hadn't left that long ago. He grabbed for the pillow, wanting to press his face into it and breathe in Stiles' residual scent on it when he heard the crackling sound of paper. Lifting the pillow, he found a piece of paper beneath it, torn off the pad he kept in the kitchen; he was surprised to see a cell number and an address in Arcata scribbled on it. Unfolding it, he realised Stiles had written more than just his contact details.

"_had to get to the hospital to see my dad. this isn't just me fucking & leaving (i don't think). still not really sure what last night was or what i want right now, kind of need to go away and think about it. I'm heading back up to school once my dad gets out of the hospital, don't know if i'll come by and say good bye before i leave – might make things weirder/harder/awkwarder. if i don't, here's my new cell # and my address in arcata, just in case. p.s. i guess i can also cross 'get fucked by a werewolf' off my bucket list now! so thanks for that! x_"

It was something, at least


End file.
